The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) by Paul Kemprecos Page A
Authors: Paul Kemprecos
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as an attempt to fill in the holes. With nothing else available to him, he went back to what the Army had trained him to do. Kill people.
He returned to Iraq as a mercenary. He only lasted a few months before being fired for drug abuse. Returning home, he was drawn to his old surfing beach. From a distance he watched the young surfers skimming the waves like sea gods. He projected himself into their handsome bodies and the germ of an idea began to form.
Returning to acting school, concentrating on the field of make-up and disguise, he’d learned the craft of fashioning facial features out of artificial skin. During his studies he came across the phrase, Man of a Thousand Faces , used to describe the film actor Lon Chaney, known as a master of make-up. He even adopted the actor’s real name, Leonidas Frank.
He circulated his resume, stressing his chameleon-like ability to get close to a target. A client hired him for an assassination. The target was a heavily-guarded competitor of Auroch. Easily disguising himself as a bodyguard, he’d carried out the assignment with ridiculous ease. After the kill, Salazar had met with him personally and Leonidas accepted a job as a security consultant for special assignments.
Leaving the memories behind, Leonidas snapped back to reality. It was time to get moving on the new job. A cold shower cleared away some of fog in his mind. Then he applied a fleshy fake nose and a weathered olive skin to his ruined face. He replaced the wig with one that had streaks of gray and gained years of wisdom in only a few seconds. He was employed again, thanks to Hawkins. Too bad he wouldn’t have the chance to thank the guy before he killed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cadiz, Spain, One Day Later
Thanks to Abby’s machine-like efficiency, the move from Woods Hole to Cadiz had gone off without a hitch. Before he left town Hawkins had dropped Quisset off at Howard Snow’s house, given her a pat on the head and told her to have fun with Uncle Snowy. He hitched a ride on the truck transporting Falstaff from Woods Hole to JFK airport where the submersible was loaded onto a 747 cargo plane. He climbed aboard the plane for the flight from New York to Frankfurt, then on to Cadiz.
He slept for most of the Atlantic crossing and felt refreshed when the plane arrived in Spain. Abby had thought of everything. A crane truck was waiting at the airport to move Falstaff to the harbor. The submersible was lifted from the truck onto the deck of the Sancho Panza , the forty-eight-foot salvage boat Kalliste had hired for the survey. Hawkins had asked Kalliste to line up a boat that was large and sturdy enough to accommodate Falstaff ’s weight. She greeted Hawkins on board with a hug. She said the boat was the best she could find on a limited budget, and the captain had a sterling reputation around the port.
Hawkins grew up on the Maine coast, son of a lobster fisherman. He had explored his father’s boat from the time he could crawl. He knew that a ship-shape vessel was the secret to a long life at sea. The Sancho Panza ’s hull had welds and patches, but it was freshly painted. The winches that powered the arm-like cranes on both sides of the deck were free of rust. Every cable or coil of line looked brand new. When the captain introduced himself, Hawkins complimented him on the condition of the boat. The captain beamed at the praise and said he’d been strict with maintenance because the boat had been built in the 1960s. Together, they supervised the job of moving Falstaff onto the stern deck.
Hawkins soon learned why the boat had been named for the sidekick of Don Quixote. The skipper, Captain Alejandro Santiago, was a fanatic admirer of Cervantes, even naming his son Miguel after the famous Spanish author. Over a hearty dinner cooked by Miguel, the captain regaled them with stories of Don Quixote’s creator. He would have gone on all night, but Hawkins politely suggested that they turn in early. The next
He returned to Iraq as a mercenary. He only lasted a few months before being fired for drug abuse. Returning home, he was drawn to his old surfing beach. From a distance he watched the young surfers skimming the waves like sea gods. He projected himself into their handsome bodies and the germ of an idea began to form.
Returning to acting school, concentrating on the field of make-up and disguise, he’d learned the craft of fashioning facial features out of artificial skin. During his studies he came across the phrase, Man of a Thousand Faces , used to describe the film actor Lon Chaney, known as a master of make-up. He even adopted the actor’s real name, Leonidas Frank.
He circulated his resume, stressing his chameleon-like ability to get close to a target. A client hired him for an assassination. The target was a heavily-guarded competitor of Auroch. Easily disguising himself as a bodyguard, he’d carried out the assignment with ridiculous ease. After the kill, Salazar had met with him personally and Leonidas accepted a job as a security consultant for special assignments.
Leaving the memories behind, Leonidas snapped back to reality. It was time to get moving on the new job. A cold shower cleared away some of fog in his mind. Then he applied a fleshy fake nose and a weathered olive skin to his ruined face. He replaced the wig with one that had streaks of gray and gained years of wisdom in only a few seconds. He was employed again, thanks to Hawkins. Too bad he wouldn’t have the chance to thank the guy before he killed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cadiz, Spain, One Day Later
Thanks to Abby’s machine-like efficiency, the move from Woods Hole to Cadiz had gone off without a hitch. Before he left town Hawkins had dropped Quisset off at Howard Snow’s house, given her a pat on the head and told her to have fun with Uncle Snowy. He hitched a ride on the truck transporting Falstaff from Woods Hole to JFK airport where the submersible was loaded onto a 747 cargo plane. He climbed aboard the plane for the flight from New York to Frankfurt, then on to Cadiz.
He slept for most of the Atlantic crossing and felt refreshed when the plane arrived in Spain. Abby had thought of everything. A crane truck was waiting at the airport to move Falstaff to the harbor. The submersible was lifted from the truck onto the deck of the Sancho Panza , the forty-eight-foot salvage boat Kalliste had hired for the survey. Hawkins had asked Kalliste to line up a boat that was large and sturdy enough to accommodate Falstaff ’s weight. She greeted Hawkins on board with a hug. She said the boat was the best she could find on a limited budget, and the captain had a sterling reputation around the port.
Hawkins grew up on the Maine coast, son of a lobster fisherman. He had explored his father’s boat from the time he could crawl. He knew that a ship-shape vessel was the secret to a long life at sea. The Sancho Panza ’s hull had welds and patches, but it was freshly painted. The winches that powered the arm-like cranes on both sides of the deck were free of rust. Every cable or coil of line looked brand new. When the captain introduced himself, Hawkins complimented him on the condition of the boat. The captain beamed at the praise and said he’d been strict with maintenance because the boat had been built in the 1960s. Together, they supervised the job of moving Falstaff onto the stern deck.
Hawkins soon learned why the boat had been named for the sidekick of Don Quixote. The skipper, Captain Alejandro Santiago, was a fanatic admirer of Cervantes, even naming his son Miguel after the famous Spanish author. Over a hearty dinner cooked by Miguel, the captain regaled them with stories of Don Quixote’s creator. He would have gone on all night, but Hawkins politely suggested that they turn in early. The next
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